Finding You
by TheAlphaWrites
Summary: This is the story of how Peter Parker-Rogers-Stark fell in love with a S.H.I.E.L.D assassin. And how he introduced said assassin to his superhero parents. Prequel to 'All For You' and 'While My Dads' Were Away'. Steve/Tony. Peter/Wade. Requested. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Requested by Vanessa Masters and WickedPinapple on FanFiction**

_**Thank you to my beta, WithinHerHeart :)**_

* * *

**Chapter One**

Peter tapped his foot impatiently and let out a loud huff. "Come on dads," he couldn't keep the whine out of his voice, "We've been here for hours already, can't we just go home?"

Steve and Tony, who had been sparring in the boxing ring for about an hour and a half now, paused at their son's voice, inclining their heads in sync towards him.

With the gym at the Avengers' Mansion currently under construction, after Dad lost control of another of his science projects and had accidently wrecked the entire east side of the building, the Avengers had been taking advantage of S.H.I.E.L.D's resources. Peter knew his family, especially his Papa, were obsessed with work outs – it kind of came with the job, after all – but come on, three hours training in one afternoon is more than a little excessive. He'd come into the building straight from school, as he had been instructed that morning, and after he had completely all his homework for the next two weeks, there was only so long he could count the tiles on the ceiling (4567 tiles, if you were wondering).

Steve blew the damp strands of hair from his forehead with a heavy breath, and the smile that played on his lips clearly said he was enjoying himself too much to stop anytime soon. "Another 15 minutes, I promise," he answered. He gave his husband a smug look, "your dad still has to, uh, what did you say again Tony, that you'd wipe the floor with me?"

Tony scowled around the rim of his water bottle as he drank heavily, eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, "laugh it up Capiscle. Eventually, you will tire out, and I'll be there to get you."

"Yeah, but you'd be on the floor before I even start to lag," Steve teased.

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm going for a walk…"

Pushing himself off the bench that was positioned along the left side of the room, he followed the path of the hallways. They were basically empty, but it was common at this time of night – Uncle Phil had told him that, unless on missions, field agents had usually left for home by five or, like him, had mountains of paperwork to complete and so were held up in their offices.

_Speaking of Uncle Phil, maybe he has something I can do – anything but watch dad and papa flirt in a boxing ring…_

"Now you, I've never seen before…"

Peter tensed at the teasing voice, his steps faltering. He glanced around searchingly, his body automatically drifting into the defensive stance that Aunt Tasha had taught him years back. From the rafters, a body swung down and landed silently in front of him, crouched. He straightened up slowly, giving Peter the chance to analyse him closely.

The man – and he was _definitely_ a _man_ – was a few inches taller than him. He was bulky, not as big as Uncle Thor or Papa, but there was certainly some weight and muscle in his board shoulders and arms. He had a young face, with brown eyes that were trained on him intensely, green flecks caught in the overhead florescent lights; and mousy brown hair, maybe a little lighter than his own, curled around his ears, one strand flopping attractively over his forehead. Pink lips were stretched into a smirk. Over all, he'd probably be a really attractive man if he wasn't for that cocky look on his face, something that dimmed it only slightly. Strong arms were folded across his wide chest and his feet, clad in combat boots, were planted firmly at a shoulders' width apart that gave the illusion that he was a much larger force than he really was. Peter vaguely noted the man as an S.H.I.E.L.D agent, judging by the familiar black uniform.

Peter relaxed, if only slightly.

"…because, trust me, if I'd seen your pretty face before, I wouldn't forget it so easily, and you'd definitely know me," the stranger finished, "So tell me beautiful, what's your name?"

He shouldn't have answered; probably should have faked a pleasant smile, turned and walked away. But the man's smile was forcing a blush to his cheeks and he could already hear himself stuttering out his own name before he could think to stop. "Peter…I-I'm Peter."

"Well, Petey, I take it from your clothes and baby face that you don't belong to S.H.I. ," the stranger commented.

Peter scowled automatically. "And judging by the lack of colour in your wardrobe and your cocky attitude, I'd say you do belong to S.H.I.E.L.D," he shot back, eyes narrowing, "And don't call me Petey!"

"Good deduction Petey," he answered cheerfully, "I'm one of S.H.I.E.L.D's newest recruits; sheath, Intel and removal are my specialises."

Peter arched an eyebrow. "Uh, did you just admit to being S.H.I.E.L.D's newest assassin? Doesn't that, I don't know, give the game away?"

The man paused thoughtfully. "Hmm, now that you mention it, I suppose it does. I guess that means I should…kill you or something…"

The teenager took a step backwards instinctively, a wary look crossing his face.

He cackled loudly. "Don't look so scared Petey. I couldn't ruin such a pretty face," his gloved hand reached out to trace the length of his jaw. The coolness of the leather against his skin made him shiver, and his breath deepened ever so slightly. "At least, not the way you think," he continued, his voice dropping to a more inappropriate level that practically dripped with sex.

Peter watched the mystery man through the canopy of his eyelashes. The man's gaze was intense, dark and no longer holding the light teasing it once held. His lips moved hurriedly, as if whispering to himself. Over the sound of blood pounding in his ears, he could make out a few phases.

"_Pretty Peter…no can't…very pretty…but…_"

He seemed to get closer, and Peter could feel the faint brush of breath against his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his lips. They parted instinctively, and he swallowed heavily, it feeling like his heart was beating in his throat.

"_Wade!_"

The voice, angered and filled with contempt, seemed to echo loudly around the empty corridor. It shocked Peter so suddenly that he veered backwards; his face flushed a dark red and his legs feeling like jelly beneath him. He blinked rapidly through his daze. The man – clearly the 'Wade' that was in a lot of trouble – looked a mixture of gleeful and amused, and scratched at the back of his head.

"Damn, I was hoping it would take them longer to find me," Wade commented offhandedly, "Oh well, guess it means I got to run."

Wade poked him firmly in the forehead with his index finger, causing Peter's eyes to cross as he tried to follow it, and he winked playfully before turning on his heel and disappearing around the next corner.

Peter couldn't be sure how long he stood there and stared blankly at the vacant space in front of him, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes because the sound of heavy footfalls broke him from his trance. He glanced over his shoulder, a little startled.

"Uncle Clint?" he said, confusion in his voice.

"Peter, hey," Clint grinned slightly in greeting, slowing his steps, "listen, did you see a guy go down here? He's, um, maybe my height, brunet, in his twenties…"

"Uh, um, I don't…" Peter stammered. He knew he should give up the stranger's – _Wade's _– whereabouts. After all, what reason did he have to lie? But it seemed as if his brain wasn't co-operating today because he found himself saying, "I d-don't know for sure…I mean, I could have…m-maybe he went down there…" he held out a shaky hand in the general opposite direction to them.

Clint clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks kid. Oh, and your dads are looking for you," he added, calling behind him as he disappeared at the end of the corridor.

On the way home, Peter's mind couldn't help drifting back to Wade. The man…confused him, to say the least, and he wasn't really sure why. All he knew for certain is he _definitely_ wanted to see him again, whatever that meant.

_Maybe dads' work outs won't be too bad after all_, he smiled wryly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_**Thank you to my beta, WithinHerHeart :)**_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Peter had never been in love.

He'd had crushes of course, and for a long time he thought he was in love with Gwen Stacey, the chief of police's daughter – and maybe he was, but it seemed insignificant compared to what he was feeling now. He was talking about real love, honest to god, pure and unadulterated love – the kind that he had grown up surrounded by, and had always wanted to find for himself.

And now, maybe he had found it, and he was at a loss of what to do.

He couldn't even be sure when it really happened, but he remembered the exact moment when he realised it.

It was a Thursday, and once again, he had met up with Wade in the empty corridor. It had been happening for a few weeks, a little over a month by that point. While his dads (and sometimes, the rest of the Avengers) trained he could wander away until he found the mystery man, which was always a different location every time. Sometimes he'd be leaning against the walls, waiting for him, and other times he would swing down from the rafters as he had done the first time – usually that was because he had done something that warranted hiding. Wade had never questioned why Peter searched him out, almost as if he expected it, although he had arched an eyebrow questioningly, his lips pulled into an amused smile, when Peter had rounded the corner and run straight into him.

It was almost as if he appreciated the company; at least, that's what the teenager had told himself when he began to question why the older man would actually want to have a sixteen year old hanging around him.

Wade was telling him about his last mission with such a childlike excitement that Peter was completely drawn in, wide eyes following the over exaggerated movements of his arms as he used them to make his point. He was an excellent storyteller, not as good as his father but definitely up there – he even made the sound effects and everything. Peter hugged his knees to his chest, his back rested against the wall behind him, and listened with avid interest, He remembered hanging onto every word, a small smile playing on his lips. In that one moment, he could honestly say he didn't want to be anywhere else.

And then suddenly, he had to leave. His Uncle Bruce had come looking for him while his dads and Uncle Clint were showering off – after all, vigorous work outs weren't exactly advisable – and he eyed Wade in a way that forced a blush to Peter's cheeks, like he had been caught making out with his boyfriend rather than just having a conversation with a new friend.

Wade stood up and brushed imaginary lint off his trousers, and gave him a wide smile. "Ah, I've got to go anyway, as fun as this was. I have paperwork to do – well, what I mean is I'm going to hide from Coulson so he doesn't make me do the paperwork I need to do." He poked Peter in the centre of the forehead, a goodbye that had become normal for them, and winked playfully, "Later Petey. See ya, Green Man." He saluted Bruce, who waved awkwardly back, before continuing on his way.

Bruce shot his nephew a knowing look, his arm moving to rest around his shoulder. "So this is where you go every day, we were beginning to wonder…" he muttered.

"Nothing happens," Peter quickly assured, "I mean we talk that's it. Well, mostly he talks, about his missions, but still, that's all that happens."

"Don't worry Peter, I'm not going to tell your dads, it's not my place," Bruce shrugged indifferently, "But I think you should."

"Why? Nothing's happened."

"Maybe, but I think we both know that you want something to."

And he did. In passing thoughts, he would wonder what it would feel like to have Wade's lips pressed against his own, or have his hands holding onto his hips, dragging him closer so their bodies were flushed together. And on late nights, when he would touch himself beneath the duvet, he would wonder what kind of lover Wade would be; whether he'd be rough, pin his arms above his neck and rock into him with jagged movements that made him want to cry out, or would he be gentle, pressing kisses along the arch of his neck and keeping him on edge, his pleasure strung out, until he was begging for more, for it to end, for anything. Even now, as he walked away further and further away from the other man, his heart felt heavy and he had to swallow the uncomfortable feeling that rose in his throat.

It was that realisation that brought him here, now, standing outside his father's study and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. He took a heavy breath, trying to work up the courage to actually enter the room. Uncle Bruce had been right, of course, he needed to tell his parents about it – more importantly, he needed their advice, now probably more than any other time. He knocked hesitantly on the door and gently pushed the door open, poking his head through the gap.

Tony glanced upward from the plans that were spread out across the wooden desktop, his glasses resting low on his nose, and a large smile crossed his face when he saw his son. He brushed the frames up onto the bridge of his nose and gestured the boy into the room.

"Peter, hey, what's the matter?" he questioned.

"What makes you think something's wrong?" Peter replied warily.

"Because the only times you've ever come into the office is when you've done something to annoy your Papa – something you haven't done since you were eight, I might add – or if you need someone to talk to," Tony told him knowingly, "Was your Pa busy?"

Cheeks flushing at how apparently obvious he was, the teenager muttered, "He has a meeting with Fury…"

"So you do need someone to talk to,"

"I need advice," Peter corrected with a heavy sigh, dropping into one of the large chairs that Tony had positioned in front of his desk. He kept his eyes low, focusing on fiddling with the fraying upholstery, but he could see the way his father leant forward slightly in his chair, arms resting on the papers across his desk, hands clasped.

"What about?" his dad pressed after a long pause.

He took in a deep breath and forced the words out on an exhale, "…how did you know that you loved Papa?"

"Love," Tony repeated slowly, "You came to me…for _relationship_ advice?"

Peter flushed pink but didn't say anything, biting his lip and waiting patiently for the answer to his question.

Stark sat back in his chair, blinking thoughtfully. "Uh, um, that's difficult to say. I'd always had a crush on Captain America, even from when I was a child, and when we first met, well, your Papa and I didn't exactly get along. I suppose I always did love him, in my own way, but it took me years to actually see that. Um…"

"I want to know…what it felt like…" Peter said, trying to be more specific.

"What brought this on Peter? D-do you…do you think you love somebody?"

"…Maybe…"

Tony eyed his son closely, taking in the way he wouldn't meet his gaze; the way he chewed at his bottom lip; the embarrassment that was clear along his face. He wasn't sure how he felt about the fact his son – his little boy – was telling him he might love somebody – he was such an adult concept to him, to feel that strongly about someone, and it worried how fast Peter was growing up – but the boy need help, it was clear in his mannerisms how much this was truly affecting him and he couldn't ignore it.

"…It's difficult to explain, Peter, I suppose it's different for everybody," he finally spoke, his voice low and thoughtful in a way that encouraged the teenager to glance up at him through a curtain of hair. "For me…I suppose I realised how hard it was to be without Steve. He was always there for me, something I took for granted until he had been injured on the job and the stupid serum was having difficulty repairing the wounds and all I could think about, was finding a way to fix him, to bring him back to me, and how once I did, I wouldn't let him go again…"

"…How does that feel? The, uh, needing Papa to be there?"

"When he wasn't, it…hurt, I guess. Like a dull ache in my chest that had nothing to do with the arc reactor. I could live with it, sure, but my moods were all out of whack and no one else could deal with me. And when he was, it was like…" he struggled to find the right words.

"…like you're lighter…like everything that's holding you down normally, that worries you in day to day life – it just disappears and all that's left his you…and them," Peter finished quietly.

"Yeah…yeah, that's it," Tony nodded. He shuffled the papers on his desk distractedly, giving the boy a few moments to think about what he had just realised, before the temptation became too much to bear. "So, um, who is the lucky girl?"

"Uh, not a girl…" Peter admitted, glancing at his father nervously.

To his credit, Stark didn't react. "So, it's not Miss. Stacey then?" he teased.

"Ah, god no, I mean, sure, yeah, I like her, a lot, but um, not like this…"

"So who is he?"

"Older, much older – I think anyway. I haven't actually asked his age to be honest," he scratched the back of his neck, almost sheepish that he didn't know such a simple thing about the guy his supposedly loves; "…He's an S.H.I.E.L.D agent. When you and Papa are in the gym, I meet up with him and we…talk."

"Just talk?" Tony arched an eyebrow.

Peter blushed red at the implications. "Yes we only talk. God, I don't even think he swings my way…"

"Peter, we're Starks. It's like a whole, new sexuality all in itself," he joked easily, making the boy smile just a little. He tilted his head. "So…are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know…"

"You should," Tony stated firmly, "If I hadn't told your father how I felt about him, we would have spent the rest of our lives skirting around each other – and then we wouldn't have you, or our family, and any other little ones that come our way."

"So you've decided to adopt again?" Peter questioned, sitting up straighter.

"Hmm, we're still debating over whether we should take up your Aunt Pepper's offer as surrogate but," he shrugged, "we'll see."

That night, Peter couldn't help thinking about the future; about what would happen if he took that plunge and told Wade how he felt, and he felt the same way. He thought about dates and kisses and the sex – okay, yes, he thought about the sex a lot, but he was a teenage boy and masturbation was like an Olympic game to him. He thought about if he had what his dads' had; about tying the knot and maybe, somewhere far in the future, having children of his own.

He didn't think about being rejected. He didn't think about the dangerous missions that Wade took on, or his apparent inability to die, or how one day he might want something more and leave him.

He found Wade again in the hallway, already sitting cross-legged on the floor, gulping down his Styrofoam cup of coffee – black, eight sugars, no milk – like it was the elixir of life. _Maybe it was, the secret to his anomy_, Peter mused as he approached the man, an awkward distraction from the way his heart of pounding so heavily in his chest.

The agent looked up at him and grinned widely. "Petey!" he greeted, "I was beginning to think you weren't going to visit today!"

"Sorry, was held up with my parents," he lied easily, sitting down carefully across from him. _Yeah, if that's code for, spent fifteen minutes pacing along the last corridor to build up the courage to come see you again…_

"So, um, are you going to tell me the rest of the story?" he continued with what he hoped was an eager smile, rather than one that mirrored the uneasy churning of his stomach.

If it was, it didn't seem like Wade had noticed. "Oh, you mean the Dubai mission? So, I was fighting the bad guy along the landing strip of his private plane…"

To be honest, Peter tuned out the words, and listened intently on the sound of his voice. Just the flow of his speech, the habits that broke through the clear speech that he was unable to get rid of. The way he put firm emphasis on words that didn't really need it, or the way the words sped up, jumbling together, whenever he got really, truly excited about something. He watched the way Wade's lips moved; the way that pushed together and rolled; the flick of his pink tongue that brush across his bottom lip every so often.

Peter imagined what kissing him would be like. From a distance, his cupid's bow looked soft, almost vulnerable, especially when compared to rest of his body and the harsh outline of muscle and strength. He wondered whether Wade would use that power to his advantage, holding him in place, pining his arms above his head, leaving him unable to move and completely at his mercy. Or would he want to be gentle, to counteract the brawn he uses every day, and press encouraging kisses along the arch of his neck, his jaw and his lips, wanting Peter to make the first move.

Would Peter want to make the first move? He certainly didn't want to here. The last thing he needed was to make a fool out of himself with someone he saw as a friend, not just held romantic feelings for. Tony's words from the day before circled in his mind.

Maybe he should take a chance. He never knew what would happen. Maybe Wade would rebuff him, but at least he would know for sure.

He wasn't sure what would be worse: never knowing whether you'd have a chance, or definitely knowing you wouldn't.

Words escaped him before he could stop himself. It was almost as if one part of his brain – the hopeful part, apparently – took control while the rational side was arguing with itself and made the decision for him. When silence fell around them, Peter was pretty certain that his heart was going to beat out of his chest. His eyes were wide, firmly trained on the man across from him, and he pressed his back up as far against the wall as he could, almost as if he were trying to distance himself.

Wade had paused mid-sentence at the unexpected question, his hand still hovering in place from where he was demonstrating the size of an explosion. His eyes, usually wide and filled with happy emotions, conveyed nothing and that only seemed to make Peter move nervous.

Why had he said that? God, he was such an idiot! Wade was going to hate him now, he knew that for sure, and he'd never want to speak to him again and he didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't share these moments, these wonderful times that had made him care so deeply for the S.H.I.E.L.D agent, something that he would miss more than anything. Why didn't he just keep his mouth shut? The hurls and hurls of abuse that welled up in his mind were silenced by one sentence.

"What did you say?" Wade wondered, his voice riddled with disbelief.

Peter swallowed heavily and, against his better judgement, stuttered out the question once more. "W-would y-you…go on a…go on a d-date…with…me?"

When Wade didn't answer straight away, he continued, "I'm sorry, I've made you uncomfortable haven't I? Just, god, this was stupid of me. I shouldn't have…but we can still be friends right? If we forget that this ever happened?"

"You mean…you want to forget that you asked me out?" Wade responded, the serious and maybe a little disappointed (well, there was Peter's hopeful side again) a massive contrast to the happy and eager way he had spoken before. His arms were lowered now, resting in his lap, and he stared at the younger boy across from him critically, almost as if he were trying to figure him out.

"If that's what you want, and it means we can keep doing this," he gestured between him, "without it being awkward, then yes, yes I'd be happy to forget."

"…But only if I want to?"

"Uh, yes…"

"And what if I don't want to?" Wade wondered, leaning forward on his arms to close the distance that Peter had put between them.

"Uh, um, w-wha…" he stuttered nervously.

"What if I don't want to forget?" the agent repeated slowly, "What if I want to say yes?"

His heart stuttered at the sudden question and his eyes widened in a mixture of confusion, disbelief and anticipation. "Say yes…?"

Wade hummed, nodding slightly. "You better think of something magical for our first date Petey," he ordered good-naturedly.

"Huh…s-something m-magical-l?"

"Uh, yah, you are the one who asked me out. That's your responsibility," he winked playfully, and stood up suddenly, "How about next Saturday, six o'clock? You can pick me up from here."

Unable to do anything else, Peter nodded dumbly.

"Good," Wade looked satisfied. His gloved hand slipped under Peter's chin and tilted his head upward so he could press their lips together in a firm kiss that forced the teenager's mind to go blank. He flicked his tongue along his bottom lip, tasting him just briefly, and smiled widely at him. "Until then Petey," he muttered his goodbyes.

Peter watched him go with wide eyes.

"D-did that…just happen?" he murmured to himself, one hand absentmindedly coming up to brush his fingertips across his lips, that were still tingling pleasantly, almost teasing him with the knowledge that _yes, that did just happen_.

His lips twitched slightly, letting out a breathy laugh. _Yup, his lips are as soft as they look…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_**Beta'd by WithinHerHeart :)**_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

They'd been dating for four months when Peter decided it was time to introduce Wade to his family, although the fact that they'd nearly been caught twelve times by someone or other was certainly a clincher. It had been all been planned out and now all he needed to do was make sure that Wade was on his best behaviour, which was more of a challenge than it should be because Peter wasn't even sure that Wade _had_ a best behaviour.

"I'm serious Wade," he pleaded, "No innuendos or wise cracks-"

"Hey, my jokes are funny," Wade defended.

"-no sneaking off to grope me in the bathroom-"

"You say that like it's a bad thing!"

"-and please, please don't make a reason for them to hate you okay?" Peter finished insistently. He reached up and brushed some hair away from Wade's forehead. "I would actually like to keep seeing you."

Wade grasped Peter's hand and brought it to his lips. "Hey, relax, it'll be fine," he swore against the soft skin on the back of his hand, before using it to draw him closer, into his hold, and steal a kiss.

Peter hummed in pleasure, the tension loosening from his shoulders, and he swayed into the embrace. Hands were released and grasped at each other, the back of the other's head or the lapels on his dinner jacket. Wade bite down harshly on Peter's bottom lip, licking it soothingly before slipping his tongue through the newly made entrance. Peter probed back awkwardly, still not as skilled in the art of kissing as his boyfriend, but definitely getting there.

He wasn't prepared when the front door of the studio apartment – a private home, away from the chaos of the Avenger's Tower – swung open. Peter flailed as he tried to put some space between himself and the man, automatic words of "it's not what it looks like" leaving his lips before he could stop them.

His Dad arched an eyebrow at him, almost mockingly, and seemed to brush off the words. "Come on in, your Papa's putting the finishing touches on dinner."

Wade nodded and offered a polite smile, a relief for Peter. At least he had taken the warnings seriously. "Thank you Mr. Stark."

Peter made to move after him, but was stopped by the heavy hand that fell onto his shoulder, holding him in place. He glanced up at his dad and offered a nervous smile. It wasn't returned.

"Peter, when you said your boyfriend was older, exactly how much older is he?" Tony hissed in his ear.

"Um, a few years…" he shrugged, trying to be indifferent, and attempted to make his escaped.

"A few years as in currently at college or a few years as in he has a job?" Tony pressed.

"Um, I don't think he went to college actually…he was picked up really early on by, uh, S.H.I.E.L.D?" Peter offered hesitantly.

"Peter…"

"He's in his twenties, alright?" the teenager sighed heavily and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Peter, you do know you're only seventeen, right?" Tony demanded.

"I told you he was older than me," Peter defended himself.

"I thought you meant he was like 19, 20, not nearly 30!"

"He's 24, it's not that bad," he shot back. He took in a shaky breath, "Look, can you and Papa just…try? Please, for me? I…I really like him Dad, and I want my dads' to like him too."

Tony suppressed a snort. Now that was unlikely. Something told him that Steve wasn't going to appreciate the _fully grown man_ who had started a relationship with _their_ little boy. Of course, he didn't tell Peter that. He just gave a long suffering sigh and said they'd better head in – "Can't leave your Papa and Wade alone for too long, huh?"

Steve turned to them as they entered, shooting them a wide smile in greeting. Only a trained eye, like Tony's, could see the tension in the line of his shoulders, could see the panic in the depths of his eyes; could see the strain behind the smile.

"Tony, have you met…Wade?" he questioned, moving around the dining table to his husband's side, automatically grasping his hand and squeezing. Tony winced noticeably at the pressure, before he let a smile cross his face.

"Yes I have met him honey, I answered the door," he explained patiently, with a hint of a smirk.

"Of course, um, Peter, why don't you show, uh, your boyfriend around while your dad here helps me with dinner?" Steve offered helpfully.

Peter didn't seem aware of the tension in the room, or the slight hysteria in his Papa's voice. He just beamed at him as if he had made the greatest suggestion in the world and moved to tug Wade from the dining room. Steve pulled Tony into the kitchen, closing the door firmly behind him and finally dropped his mask.

"Who the heck is that _man_ out there with our _little boy_?" he demanded.

"Steve, he's 17 now, hardly a little boy…" Tony tried to soothe, but it was futile.

"Tony, he looks older than me," Steve hissed.

"I doubt he's older than you, old man."

"Oh, you know what I mean. How did Peter even meet him?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D," Tony answered, "Apparently he's an agent there."

"He's a spy? I-I…we have to stop this, like now. We should go out there and sit them down and tell them that…that the relationship just can't happen, it doesn't work. Peter's far too young and god that must be illegal in some way, right? We have to put an end to it now-"Steve was cut off mid rant by Tony's hand on his arm. He silenced and glanced at the man pathetically, his confusion and uncertainty clear on his face. Tony tried a sympathetic smile and gently urged him closer.

"Steve, we can't do anything to stop them," he told him, "If we tell Peter he can't see Wade, he'll just do it behind our backs. I don't want that, and I know that you don't want it either. Peter, he…he came to me a few months back, was asking about what it felt like to be in love, and I told him," Tony admitted, "And if he honestly feel the way he said, if he _loves_ Wade, we'll do more damage than good by keeping them apart."

"I don't like it," Steve admitted quietly, pressing his face into the crook of his husband's neck, taking comfort from the familiar scent, "I really don't like it. Peter…"

"…is more mature than we give him credit for," Tony finished, "And you don't have to like it. I don't like it either, but we have to trust him."

"Peter, I trust. It's that man that I don't," Steve scowled.

* * *

"Your dads' don't like me," Wade commented nonchalantly, running his fingertips along the wooden picture frames that had been placed along the corridor outside their bedrooms, memories of their lives.

Peter winced. "Yeah, I know," he nodded, "I'm sorry about that…"

Wade shrugged. "It's okay, not many people like me."

The simplicity of that statement, yet the bare truth hidden behind it, made Peter's chest ache in sympathy. Giving into the urges, he closed the distance between him, his hands moving to grasp the fabric that covered the man's broad chest and he tugged on it gently. Peter inclined his head upwards, their faces barely inches away from each other. "I like you," he stated quietly.

Wade cracked a smile, bowing his head slightly so their foreheads touched. Arms moved to enclose around Peter's lithe hips, pulling him closer. The kiss was fleeting, merely a brush of lips against each other, but it meant so much more. The sweetness of it made Peter's breath catch, wanting more but not wanting to break the moment. The lightness in the older man's eyes made him smile.

"I know you do," Wade muttered.

They stood in silence for a moment, just soaking up each other's company, enjoying the touches, until Steve's voice echoed up the stairs, calling them back for dinner. Peter was reluctant to release his grip on Wade, but he allowed himself to comfort of just holding hands.

"Are you ready to face them again?" Peter questioned.

"I have to be, don't I?" Wade offered a wiry smile.

Peter tightened his grip on the larger hands. "Just this night, of sitting through questions and awkward silences, and then no more secrets, I promise. Not about you or our relationship or the feelings I have for you. I don't want to have to hide you anymore."

Wade's smile was fond and pressed a kiss to his forehead, lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. "No more secrets," he replied softly, the words said like a vow.

It would be difficult, he knew that. Peter was so much younger than him, enough to make him question what he was doing himself, and he couldn't exactly fault Steve and Tony for not instantly warming to him – and, admittedly, he wondered whether they ever would because really, parents did _not_ approve of him. But he'd put up with it, because Peter…he was definitely worth it.


End file.
